Want
by khaleesiofmischief
Summary: She doesn't know who she is yet, but she knows that she has hurt the only person who knows her. And she feels bad about it. So, she goes to his shop, not sure if she is doing the right thing or making a big mistake...


**Basically Belle's POV but in third person.**

**So, this is smut actually, but there is a lot of angst and emotion thrown in. I hope you'll like it!**

**Review maybe?**

Ruby had given her full access to her wardrobe. As long as she found something that she liked and fit, she could wear it, no questions asked. She wore a strapless red dress, cut in mid-thigh, tight enough to flatter her delicious curves. She warmed her feet with a pair of black high-heeled pumps. She used some mascara and mentally congratulated herself for not sticking it into her eye, covered her lips with red lipstick, and she was on her way.

She knew that she could go anywhere she wanted—not that there were that many places to go in Storybrroke, but anyway. She could go to a bar and, sooner or later, someone would offer to buy her a drink. If she was unlucky, someone would grab her ass. Oh well, she did not exactly wait for her gorgeous prince in his shiny armor to come riding his white horse and rescue her. She only believed in pleasure and, if someone was lucky, in love. Unfortunately, she had not had either of the two in Storybrooke.

Instead of going to a bar, her feet led her to him. He was the only one who seemed to know who she really was—even though she did not. He seemed to care about her. He had desperately tried to make her remember. All that she had done was to break his—precious for some reason—cup and to break his heart. She felt sorry for him. She was sorry for what she had done to him.

The sign informed her that the shop was closed, but she had a feeling that he was still in there, hiding in the shadows like a frightened monster…

Where had the word "monster" come from?

She shook her head. Obviously she was affected by his talking about magic. Right, magic, sure. Just another impossible scenario, like true love. A hopeless dream. The belief of a lunatic. That was what magic was. That was what true love was.

All that she heard as she stepped inside was the bell ringing as she opened and closed the door. She looked around, but there was no sign of him. She could only see…memories. These objects belonged to certain people, people that did not mind giving them away because they still remembered who they were. She did not, and she had nothing to help her.

She sighed and entered his office. There he was, sitting in his chair, reading an old and worn book. He was not exactly handsome, but he looked…stylish, sophisticated and…well, attractive. He looked good for his age—she did not know just how old he was, but she could guess. She wanted him, and she was not ashamed of that anymore.

He felt her piercing eyes on him and left the book on his desk. He stood up, supporting his weight on his cane, and then he looked at her.

His face changed immediately. He did not look tired anymore. There was a light in his eyes, hope and anticipation. If he thought that she had regained her memory, she felt sorry for him all over again.

Then , he noticed her outfit. He looked at her from top to toes, his—this time, hungry—eyes devouring her, as if he was seeing things that he was not supposed to be seeing. She felt like he was undressing her with nothing but his penetrating gaze. She blushed, and that mustn't have looked really good, considering that she was wearing a red dress.

He slowly walked towards her, but he did not look like a predator approaching his prey in order to eat her flesh, in order to kill her. He looked like a sad man, a man who had lost too much. He had lost her as well, she knew. And she felt bad about it. She did not want to feel bad.

"What…what can I do to help you?" he asked a little breathless.

She decided that actions were louder than words, always had been that way. So, instead of speaking to him, she closed the gap between them and kissed him. His lips were soft and warm and welcoming. His tongue was hot and wet and hungry. Stars were exploding behind her closed eyelids, and a consuming fire was building up inside her. It felt so good.

When they desperately needed to breathe, they broke the kiss. He looked at her, smiling but also about to cry. He stroked her cheek. She barely felt his touch. He handled her as if she was made of china and would break if he touched her a bit more, if he held her a bit tighter. His hand was gentle and not very rough. It blessed her skin like a feather would.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he had nothing to say. They didn't have to speak about anything. Not tonight. There was no need. She hadn't come to him so that they could talk. She had come because, for some reason, she wanted him.

They kissed again, and this time she held nothing back. She let all her pent up desire escape so that he could see how much she desired him, how much she needed him at that moment. She ran her fingers through his silk hair, and he finally let go. He held her and slowly walked her backwards until she hit the wall. He let his cane fall on the cold floor in order to feel her more. His hands fell to her sides, the one holding her tightly from the waist, the other slowly holding her dress up, brushing against her leg.

She moaned inside his mouth, and he broke the kiss to attack her pulse point. He was so good, so…talented, as if he knew just what to do to her to give her everything she wanted. He slowly traced circles with his wandering hand until he reached her inner thigh, taking her breath away. She looked at him through half-lidded, filled with lust eyes. _Are you sure you want this?_ his eyes were asking.

As a reply, she wrapped her leg around his waist, careful not to hurt his pained leg. His hand slowly, almost tormenting slow, his hand slipped under her lacy panties to feel her soft curly hair. She pulled closer to him, arching into him until it was almost impossible to tell where her body ended and where his began, as he got nearer her folds. He stroked her sex, making her gasp. He was satisfied, she could see it in his eyes, dark, filled with lust like hers, hungry, a little mischievous. She pulled him into a passionate kiss as he rubbed her sensitive nub. He knew exactly where to touch her and how to touch her, but she paid no mind to this, to the knowledge, to the familiarity of this situation. She just lived the moment.

He kissed her deeply, almost eating her whole, as their breaths grew heavy. He gently inserted a finger inside her, causing her to take a deep breath and moan. His finger was long and thin and careful not to touch her, a little cold—but that made things even better, even more pleasurable. Without even realizing what she was doing, she began to move her hips against him, falling into his rhythm. He worked her to her release with such ease, such talent. She held his face between her hands, looking deeply into his eyes. Right at that moment, she was his Belle. It was okay. She could pretend to be her for a while. It made him happy. It made both of them happy.

She was close. She was moving towards the edge. She was almost there. She clenched around his digit, and her body collapsed against him. He held her gently in his protective arms as she came down of her high. He smelled her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her.

"I think you should go, sweetheart", he whispered weakly into her ear. It was obvious that he did not truly want it, but it was the right thing to do, they both knew it.

"Yes", she agreed, fixing her dress back in place. "Um…" Had she made a mistake? Had she hurt him even further?

"Thank you", he said, smiling, and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. Then, she was on her way.

**So…that's it, people! What do you think? Is it terrible?**


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